


Let's Get Un-Married

by ShadowTheCannibal



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Asexual Ciel Phantomhive, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Sexual Situations, British Culture, British Government, Ciel Has Haphephobia, Crossdressing, Demisexuality, Disabled Character, Drunken Shenanigans, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, FBI Agent Sebastian, Hangover, Hangover Reference, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Japanese Culture, Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, Memory Loss, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Rating May Change, Reproduction Kink, Sebastian Michaelis Being An Asshole, Size Difference, Teenage Ciel Phantomhive, Underage - Freeform, dominant Sebastian, sebastian turns sweet tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-05-25 23:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6215266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowTheCannibal/pseuds/ShadowTheCannibal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was almost Ciel Phantomhive’s 16th birthday. His ‘friends’ decide that the bicolor-eyed boy needs a break from the aristocratic life of being head of the British Intelligence. What’s better than to celebrate by flying to Las Vegas for a week of fun on the strip? </p><p>A couple of drinks later...</p><p>Ciel’s memory ends there.</p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>  <em>"If someone told me I'd get so drunk, in Las Vegas, and marry a stranger who's nearly nine years older than me, I'd punch them in the face for even thinking it" - Ciel Phantomhive.</em></p><p> </p><p>~</p><p>❧So, Please, if you may, Join Sebastian and Ciel Michaelis’s divorce celebration on__.__.____</p><p>Oh, that’s right: In order to break the legal bond that was made on lonely, drunken mistakes by the unlikely pair, they first have to find the person who wedded them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Snip-It.

**Author's Note:**

> No idea where this came from.... Comment if it sounds ok, or if ya' wanna throw an idea out.

“Ciel stares in disbelief, his left hand raised and posing the jewel on his ring finger. It shines with gold and diamond, intertwined with words he didn’t understand. 

With a blank mind, he rolls over in the bed on autopilot. A body is lying next to him. Red eyes stare back with the same confusing, denying expression that screams regret and anger. 

‘What have we done?’ They both ask silently, as the red-eyed man lifts his left hand, showing a golden ring… on his ring finger.

A Japanese marriage certificate and a couple of bottles of rose wine lay on the motel’s side table, confirming the two strangers’ horrors. They glance at each other, and say the first thing that comes to mind.

"I am so fucked-" The bluenette cries out.

"You’re a child!" The raven gasps in incredulity.


	2. Prologue - PANIC! at the Casino

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciel thinks of the events leading up to the car ride in vegas.
> 
> Third Person Omniscient. It will go to Ciel's POV (Third Person Limited) after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (-L.L-)

“Today, I feel like a martini with a slice of sugared lemon… I think that’s called a Lemon Drop*, isn’t it? Hmm... What d'ya say, Ciel?” Alois Trancy says with a playful tone, kicking his legs in the seat of the rental car. The blonde’s blue eyes gaze out the window in amazement. He swung his legs a few more times before Elizabeth speaks up. 

“Ciel? Please don’t tell me you’re reading- Hey, we’re on holiday! Put that bundle of paper down!” the green-eyed woman says, turning around in her seat to glare at the three back-seaters.

Ciel Phantomhive, fifteen and eleven months, was nose-deep in a well worn copy of The Complete Collection of Sherlock Holmes. His slate-blue hair comes in youthful wisps across his forehead, dangling in front of his eyes ever so slightly. He wore a simple pair of navy blue shorts, that came down to his knees. Shoes with a noticeable heel for height, and socks up to his calfs. A well-worn and used black belt hung on his hips, hidden by the crisp white dress shirt he wore. Ciel’s outfit was topped with a slenderizing black hoodie jacket, with golden buttons and long hood-strings. 

He doesn’t seem happy to have his book suddenly grabbed away by his neighbour.

“Hey!” He cries, reaching out to take his loved book back. Sieglinde sad beside the boy, smirking with glee. “She’s right. You need to get out a little,”

“We’re in a _car_ , Sullivan,” Ciel hisses. “If you want me to ‘get out’ so badly, I’ll be happy to jump out the window. Right now.”

“Oi! Stop bitching around you two- I’m daydreaming about my Lemon Drop Martini!”

“Shut up, Trancy,” Ciel says, but goes quiet.

It had been ten hours ago when Ciel was taken -by his will!- by his so called ‘friends’. They claimed he needed some ‘holiday time’.

Ciel doesn’t have vacation time. The government doesn’t stop working for a day. Much less a whole month. The Queen’s going to have my ass on a mantle when I get back.

So much to do, so little time.

Despite being only fifteen, Ciel Phantomhive had already been put in charge the the entire British Intelligence… Which is like secret serves for America. However, he and his department works within several other governmental departments. This is not bloody Battle Ship or something. Ciel’s ‘friends’ don’t seem to understand. So, the boy was furious when they came unannounced into his home, carrying large bags of luggage and passports for Las Vegas, Nevada.

_‘You’re always working so hard, Ciel!’_ Trancy said as they dragged him to Ciel’s private jet… With a shady looking pilot in tow. _‘Everyone needs break from time to time!’_

_But, like I said before, the government doesn’t take breaks._ Even if it was the Queen’s birthday or a high holiday, no one really stopped working. His ‘friends’ still don’t listen.

_'At least give me my phone, so I can get someone to take my place for the time being'_ Ciel grumbled out as the jet started, the foreign pilot announcing the non-stop flight to America. “I can get you all arrested for kidnapping me.”

_'When we get to Vegas, then I will'_ Elizabeth said cheekily, pocketing Ciel’s stolen device in her coat pocket. She wore a frilly dark pink coat with black buttons, showing off her family’s wealth.

The seconded they touched down, Elizabeth refused to give the phone to the young Lord. Before the poor boy knows it, he’s being dragged off in a taxi, rents a little Kia Soul, and is off to the casino and hotel, Cromwell*.

“Now can I have my phone?” Ciel whines, breaking the silence of the car. The three other passengers groan out.

“Fine,” Elizabeth says, tossing the phone to Ciel. The slate-haired boy grins.

Ciel’s ‘friends’ were an odd bunch. He met most of them in boarding school when his mother was still-... _I will not think of her now._

Elizabeth Midford was a girl he had known most of his fifteen years of life. She was a family friend… and family. They had even started called each other ‘cousin’ when they were in diapers. They were cousins, after all. But Ciel does not want to cross the line that was her temper. Ciel himself had one, but he couldn’t sword fight or throw a punch as well as the blonde.

Alois Trancy. Enough said. He was bright, blonde, rain-watered eyed boy that was his age. They seemed like a odd pair, but they got along fine… when Ciel was in the mood. It was when Ciel was sent off to Queen Annie’s School for the Gifted, a tiny boarding school on an island even tinier. He was ten at the time, and things were a bit busy at home… His father did the dirty work for the Queen, so to speak, at the time. So with a chased kiss and a hurried goodbye, the blue boy found himself alone and outcasted in a school that expected too much from the students. It was full of children who were raised with a silver spoon in their mouths, or children that were really gifted. Alois was one of the gifted, so to speak. Alois had a taste of fashion, so strong that he got the attention of Sutcliff Emporium, a famous clothing agency. He was poor as fuck, but an amazing talent… He still goes to school there, steadily making the money to get the clothes so he can work. They were both outcastes- one openly gay, and the other with blue hair and an eyepatch… Ciel was blind in his right eye.

Sieglinde Sullivan was a black-haired girl with pale skin (almost enough to rival Ciel’s), with a habit of speaking her mind at the worst times. She was sent to the school for bad behavior at home. ‘I’m suppose to be a Lady, not a witch… I wanna be a witch. I’d be cool to turn people into rats.’. That was the first thing she said to Ciel. They became ‘buddies’ soon after.

_And these are the people I hang out with… Sigh._

Ciel picks up his phone, toying with a gadget before opening the lock, and speed dialing Tanaka. He was a old friend.

“Speaking,” comes the old voice, buzzing through the phone’s speaker. Ciel sighs at the familiar tone.

“It’s me,” he says. He hears a shuffle of papers. “Young Master? Where are you? You’re late for the mee-”

“What meeting.”

“With NDPA*. There seems to be quite a bit of marijuana passing through the borders, young sir.”

“Damn it…” Ciel mumbles undertone. “Take over for me. I’ll try to get back as soon as I can.”

“Oh? Are you busy with something?” The elderly man asks kindly.

“I guess…” sigh,” The three musketeers dragged me out to America.”

“America?”

“Las Vegas, Nevada. They think I need a ‘break’... Crazy, isn’t it?”

A long pause from Tanaka makes Ciel hiss, “What?”

“Oh, I was wondering when you’d take a holiday, my boy! It isn’t healthy to work all the time, you know.”

“What!?” I have WORK to do!” Ciel squeaks out, his eyes darting to the back of the driver’s seat.

“You can relax a bit, Ciel. I’ll get a temporary replacement,” And then the line goes dead. Ciel stares out the window in disbelief, mouth open in shock. _Damn you, old man!_

“Hehe- I may not have been able to hear what was spoken, but I believe someone agrees with us~” Alois says with a singsong voice. Ciel’s one lone eye, dark blue as a starry sky, glares at the blonde sitting beside him. Sieglinde chuckles from the passenger seat. She flips her black hair, and it slides across her exposed shoulder. Her shirt’s left shoulder drooped down, showing the small marks of razor cuts. She wasn’t afraid to show her body. 

“Shut up! YOU don’t understand: I have very important work I need to be doing.” Ciel proclaims. Sieglinde only smirks, rolling her shoulders to show victory. Elizabeth, the driver, laughs at this. Silence falls over the car once more, music that Ciel didn’t know of beating softly through the speaker. 

The little Kia Soul was white, smelling strongly of leather and new car spice. It was sunset here, lights of the city around them turning on like candles. Really big ass candles. So far, Las Vegas doesn’t seem like it is on the telly. However, Ciel can’t see any stars come out yet. When he thinks he does see one, it proves to be a helicopter. With another tired sigh, Ciel hopes that Elizabeth knows where she is going. It was sunset, and the time was 7:45 pm. _It’s already night… Feels like day still to me- Ugh, I hate jetlag. In England, we left at 10:12 am._

Ciel groans at this, knowing the three others won’t want to sleep either… The slate-haired boy already sees himself being dragged around all over the bloody city.

“Hey Ciel, you know they have some museums here as well, right?” Sieglinde says, looking back at her friend. Said friend only frowns. “No,”

“Yes! They have a mob museum. And I think something to do with atomic bombs- We’ll check it out, yes?” Elizabeth agrees, trying to hide the sudden bolt of enthusiasm to make Ciel happy again…. After all, Ciel never did smile again the day his mother died.

But what she didn’t know, was that it hurt Ciel in more ways than one.

“Alright… sounds good,” Ciel says, interested, but tired. The car goes quiet again. Elizabeth and Sieglinde share a concerned glance. 

“Common Ciel, cheer up!” The blonde boy attempts, nudging his friend. Ciel looks over at him, a tremor in his left eye. He pulls back, and mumbles, “I can’t be happy if I know the man who fucked up my family is still alive.”

Silence falls quicker than a dropped bowling ball.

A pin could be heard, aside from the intake of breaths from the three friends. Night falls without complaint.

The silence goes on for the next ten minutes… all friends looking out the window with frowns.

“Oh look, here we are!” Alois screams out like a baby deer, desperate to break the sudden awkward silence in the car. 

“Let’s get our room, and then go to the bar!” Yowls the black haired girl, who leaps out of the car. She stands next to Alois, both of them giggling and chatting away like Ciel’s miserable comment didn’t throw them off. Their hands make movements with enthusiasm, excitement running in their veins.

The sight makes Ciel long to feel that…

However, he doesn’t. He gets out of the car slowly, shutting the door just as quietly. Wind, thick with pollution, ruffles his dark hair. One blue eye dazes at the city around them, bright and buzzing with life. Cars honk in the distance, with yelling of both anger and joy echoing the landscape. Alcohol suddenly hits Ciel’s nose, making him scrunch up. “Gross,” he mumbles, as Elizabeth joins in the other’s plans of fun. Ciel goes to the trunk and gets his bag. _This is all so… **tedious.** I don’t remember what I put in it… I was to rushed to noticed._ He thinks, a strong cloud of depression washing over him. It wasn’t unusual. _This feeling of dread… I think the reason why I work so much, is because it gets my mind off of…_

Ciel cringes and throws his hand down to his shorts, shaky and anxious. A strong and horrible wave of nausea washing over him. He drops his messenger bag, throwing his free hand to his mouth.

_**Dirty, bloody hands are being dragged down his abdomen, unwanted and repulsive. They play with his pajama pants, words of vulgar acts, and they toying with the strings to give way to-** _

_**NO!**_ Ciel mentally yells, kicking and throwing all thoughts of him away. He shakes his head back and forth, pressing the front of his body to the car, not caring if he smudges the window. _**I am disgusting.**_ He thinks, not noticing his friends help him inside the hotel, patting his back with soft words of comfort.

❧  
Time seems to go past in a blink, as he submerges into terror.  
❧

“Ciel, please, come back to us- you’re alright, you’re with us. We’ll keep you safe… Oh god, Alois, give me the phone, I think he’s having a asthma attack!” A familiar voice tells him, throwing him off the cliff of infinity.

He narrows his one good eye, feeling arms around him.

_No one can touch me again!_

He grunts and shakes off Elizabeth, who gasps out in relief.

“You’re back! Thank god, we thought you'd gone into shock again.” She says, eyes watery. Her eyes were always something Ciel loved about her- green, like emeralds.

“Ya- just- don’t touch me,” he whispers, wrapping his arms around his abdomen. A bell hopper comes around the corner with Alois, who both look worriedly at Ciel. 

“I’m fine! Just a bit tired- ugh, where are we,” Ciel says, rubbing his head as he steadies his breathing down. It had been a while since he had a panic attack like that.

“Oh, great! Nevermind, John, he’s alright now!” says Alois, and smiled happily. John, the bell hopper, nods and carries the phone in his hand away.

“We’re at the casino. We put our bags in our rooms already, and then came down here… Sorry for the rush, but we were looking for help. What’s the emergency number in America, again?” Sieglinde says, walking up to stand by Elizabeth. Ciel looks at her outfit, skimpier than it was before.

He sighs and shakes his head. “I’m alright.... I think I’d like that drink now. White Russian*, if you please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemon Drop Martini*= A cocktail mix of gin and vermouth, garnished with lemon twist. Served with sugared lemon.
> 
> NDPA*= National Drug Prevention Alliance
> 
> The Cromwell*= 3595 S Las Vegas Blvd, Las Vegas, NV 89109. A vibrant and elite casino and hotel. Chic, Old-Fashioned, and Persian-inspired.
> 
> White Russian*= A cocktail mix of vodka, coffee liquor, milk, and cream. Served on Ice, in Old Fashion Glass.


	3. Chapter One- The Hangover of Hangovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian takes name and kicks ass...
> 
> Not without looking presentable, of course. However, even devils have their demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (You see the new tags õ.õ?)
> 
> Yay! Chapter one! I'm surprised with how exited I am to write it... funny, I should write one-second quick ideas like this more often. It happened with The Replacement. O.o Anyway, tell me what'cha think...
> 
> Sebastian's POV- I haven't decided if I will mostly use Ciel or Sebastian's pov, or switch... I am oddly happy to write in Seb's... Think it's even, since The Replacement was all in Ciel's? 
> 
> Next chap will be Ciel's, but who's do you want after? Tell me in the comments! Faster updates with more comments and kudos~

Sebastian licked his lips, mentally and physically frowning that they were dry and cracked. _Note to self: drink more water._ But he can’t worry about getting that right now. His one and only problem - _that’s a lie; I look like shit and it bothers me_ \- is getting Leo Kite.

The man, Kite, didn’t deserve to be a religious leader. _He didn’t deserve to be around the innocent lives he was infecting._ The mere thought of the heinous deeds the priest had done made the raven’s inside boil. _No one deserves to **breath** if they rape the innocent._

That thought made Sebastian forget about his appearance. He grips his gun, a small drop of sweat dripping down his right brow. His eyes, deep burgundy like dried blood, narrow across the hall. A nod from his commanding officer, who stands at the other entrance, gives him the go-ahead. Sebastian smirks, teeth exposed, all horrible and diabolical. Sebastian wants to rip their target’s bones out… one, by one.

He moves like a panther, slick and sly, moving through the darkened church with the utmost stealth. His feet seem like they barely touch the ground. A man with a plan is someone to never mess with.

“ _On my count- one, two- Michaelis! Stop!_ ” A hushed and gargled voice comes through his walkie-talkie. It only lands on deaf ears. Sebastian pays the warning no mind. “ _I’m serious Michaelis- Hold on five fucking sec-. Damnit Michaelis!_ ”

The raven kicks down the church’s basement door down with ease, loud and echoing throughout the church. The other officers curse the red-eyed man’s existence, rushing into the building despite the previous no-go. They swarm like hyenas to fresh kill, feet squeaking on the floor like malicious laughs. The sudden shout of threats and a scream from a being too panicked to make since makes them act faster, running down the basement after the rebel officer.

“You have the right to remain silence. Anything you say can and _will_ be held against you in the court of law… Do I make myself clear, _Father_ Kite?” Sebastian Michaelis has the man in question in cuffs, smirking like the devil himself. The other officers relax, and some put down their guns. Their black military outfits heaving with their heavy steps as they come down to help.

“YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO BREAK IN HERE LIKE THIS!” Leo Kite screams, red-faced and pupils wide, like a fallen deer in a hunt.... He knew he was done for. He was a caged animal, and the raven who shoved him to a fellow lawman was the trainer. He barks off some orders to the everyday policemen who stand awkwardly in the corners, who stand adrift compared to the SWAT and FBI. It’s then that they set their sights on the woman who sits on a bed, crying and hands shaking, trying to hold the blood-stained sheet to her bare chest. A medic comes in to help, as the ex-priest is taken away into the night.

~

“Michaelis, I swear on my life. If you make another dick-head move like that again, I’ll-” The chief of police barges in, heavy-set and angry. Sebastian looks up from his water bottle -which he had gotten from a medic-, and smirks sweetly. 

“Or what, Sir? Give me a mettle?” He chuckles, eyes soft despite the whole ordeal. 

They stand outside the church now, Sebastian leaning against a black van, sipping water slowly like it was Earl Gray. His hair has been recently brushed, face washed and perfect… He always found time to look well.

“Damnit- You follow your commander’s orders! Not go head first into-”

“Danger? Sir, I live for danger… If someone like that poor woman was kept under the filthy hands of Kite, only because you and your team couldn’t ‘get ahold of the situation’, how else am I supposed to do what I am made for?” Sebastian answers, his smirk wider now to show his shiny teeth.

“Why I-” the chief of police is stopped by Sebastian’s boss. She comes up to them with a sway in her hips, yet looks tired as she approaches. The raven sighs in a silent thanks to the woman.

“My team, Sir Randle, had it under control. We were completely ready to go in. I had given Michaelis the order myself, so no blame should be put on my best agent.” Hannah Annafellows says, her silver hair blowing across her face.

Ms. Annafellows was the chief of the Federal Bureau of Investigation of Reno, Nevada. She was a older woman, dark-skinned and motherly by nature. She was kind, and knew when to be quiet or when to speak. However, Sebastian made a note to himself in the years he’s worked under her, to never cross her line or pull her strings. He didn’t admit to it, but he cringed at the ways she’s gotten even with people.

“Ma’am, I must always be in check of my pe-” 

“Randle, please be reminded that I am your superior. We wouldn’t want an accident to happen… would we?” She says, placing a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder like he was her son being wrongly accused. He grins, seeing Randle’s face fall.

“... Fine. Just, put a leash on your mutt,” he mumbles, glaring at the two FBIs before turning on his heel, the lights of police cars reflecting off his glassy brown eyes.

“Wow. Didn’t know a man’s face could change that fast,” The raven chuckles, waving his hair from his face in a slow, charming manner. “Could’ve fooled me with that threat, Hannah.”

“Oh please, you know I can’t hurt puppies like William and his gang of idiots,”

“Oooh, making nicknames now, are we?” Sebastian gives a hearty laugh, kicking his head back. Hannah only shakes her head, slowing her small giggle as the rest of their team come back, S.W.A.T.* uniforms in hand. 

“My, my, my, Michaelis- getting lucky with the boss woman?” Laughs Ronald Knox, aka just Knox, who walks with a childish laugh and a skip in his step. He comes up to them along with the triplet brothers; Thompson, Timber, and Canterbury. The triplets walk in union, looking mute and even. However, their quiet, snarky remarks made them a bit of a nuisance. Knox gives a spin before leaning up to the van beside Sebastian, who grunts in reply.

“I say we celebrate! We got that raper under cuffs now, with all the proof too~ A couple or more drinks should be a good reward!” The younger man says, looking to Hannah and Sebastian with a need for approval… Sebastian smiles at that, remembering when he was a young thing like that.

“Why not?” Hannah sighs, pulling her keys out of her pocket. The rest of their team comes around quickly, cars getting keyed on and tires screeching on the pavement.

“Ugh. Michaelis. If I have to sit by your delightful presence, I’ll be tempted to shoot myself,” says Claude Faustus, a old partner of Sebastian’s and the deputy of their department. He was a good man, always on time for work and making sure everyone was doing as they were told. But they never did get along… 

“You two- I swear! Argue like toddlers while I’m driving, and I will turn this car around!” Shouts Hannah, as they drive off to some pub- didn’t matter where it was to Sebastian. If drinks were offered, he’d go.

This whole week had been busy with tracking the naughty priest down, getting a warrant for arrest, and other tactics. It had been painful and grueling, and to make matters worse, Reno’s Police Department hadn’t given much help to the special agents. Sebastian was kept on his toes this entire time, going long days without sleep or proper nutrition. His exhaustion was coming on him like rocks on a drowning man. I deserve a bit of a treat.

“K’, so, do you guys plan on getting drunk… or _drunk?_ ” Knox says suddenly, his eyebrows raised suggestively. The ginger’s smirk from the front seat is aimed at the two ravens sitting in the back. They share a glance before answering.

“If I get drunk, I’ll have to call a cab. I hate cabs,” Claude says, buckling up. “They stink- the driver is usually drunk himself or high on crack.

“... I plan to get tipsy,” is the red-eyed man’s snarky remark. His eyes gaze out the window with a longing need, his body itching for food, sleep, a pretty girl, and a drink or two… Or some more. He makes a mental note to see if the pub they go to has Devil's Water*. But a sudden pain was making itself obvious in his right shoulder, and he frowns. He brings a hand to massage that area. A string from a electric shock makes him wince. This goes unnoticed by the car's habitants. Knox and Claude give Sebastian a ‘look’.

The raven explains happily while letting go of his bionic shoulder, “About so much so, that I’ll wake up in the morning in a dirty bed with a few strangers in a dinky motel in Vegas… one of them might be another male… possibly a ring on my finger. And a tiger locked up in a bathroom”. The occupants of the car go quiet, all staring at the man who spoke, or out the window… Sebastian, however, doesn't really mean what he says. He would like a drink, but just one. Maybe he will find that pretty girl and bring her home... His right shoulder makes itself known by giving another painful shock. _I need to see Joker again..._

Sebastian had lost his right arm in a stupid, idiotic accent four years back, when he was young and stupid like Knox. He'd just gotten out of college, so he was reckless and wanted to throw himself into every shadow that seemed like trouble.

And a long stay in a hospital, a couple hundred visits with a physical thyripist, he was back on the job... one limb less. However, he gives kudos to his day's time and age, and is thankful for the 'replacement' arm. He can work it normally, move the joints like he moved a real arm. He still can feel the wires forever stitched into his shoulder. But right now it's being a bit of a bitch. He wants to go home... Now without that Devil's Water. But this fellow officers give him no more time to plan...

...before they roar out in laughter. 

****

❧

****

_“...-w pronounce you, husband and wif-…”_

****

❧

****

Sebastian sighs out as a lovely smell of clean lavender and white tea great his nose. The raven is awoke by the sound of faint snores. His body is pressed against a soft figure- human, small and slim. He smiles a bit. Warmth surrounds his body. It’s inviting and beautiful- his body presses against his partner and the bed, but not uncomfortably so.

There is not thought on his mind- not even that he sleeps tangled with another. 

He drifts in and out of sleep, his body heavy and at peace. His mind has no worry, or any other strand of reality. A breath, warm and young, huffs against his neck. It makes Sebastian hum with sweet glee, curling into the heat of the other. A odd wave of relief cleans out his mind even more. He was barely aware of the thin leg draped across his waist, or that his arms griped the young body tightly to his chest. His left hand fists into a head of soft hair, while his other rubs into a back- smooth and slender and fragile. With another sleepy huff, he allows himself to nuzzle the forehead of his companion. 

The human-on-human bond he was relishing in made his mood and spirit soar, a smile widening on his pale lips. He mindlessly presses loving kisses to the body beside him, instinct wanting to please and pamper his companion. _Oh, you're so precious, my dear… let me love on you, you sweet, sweet little thing..._ His heart skips when a high yet innocent and kittenish mewl is emitted into the room, against his neck and chin. Plump and petal-soft lips bump into his, and he kisses them without question.

Everything felt... right… _this_ felt right.

 _They_ felt right.

~

 

Stranger. Bed. H/Motel. Smell of wine. A lot of wine. Like, a hell of a lot of wine. Sounds of cars and busy city people.

Sebastian no-likely…. Sebastian really doesn’t like...

Sebastian becomes more aware of the breathing human snuggled up to him, gentle snores becoming more annoying by the second. It’s then that the raven becomes very aware of _thegodawfulheadache,_ oh my, _godwhatthefuck_. _**Good fucking god in heaven-**_

“ _Oh_ ,” he groans, a hand that felt like one thousand pounds heavier comes up to feel his head. Dried sweat is making his white dress shirt stick to his chest in all the wrong ways. The guilt of a memoryless one-night stand creeps up on him slowly, as he swings his legs as graceful as a drunken panda to the side of the bed.

“Fuck,” the raven says, swaying back and forth, trying to stop the room from spinning out of control. A **loud** and **painful** ring from his cell phone makes him growl inhumanly, and he paws at the bedside table with his right hand. He meets a lamp instead of his phone, and he knocks it over loudly. The hit doesn't hurt, but a warning shock from a rather _fake_ arm makes him know it could have been damaging to him. It crashes against the whitewashed wall, and the light flickers as the bulb shatters. He curses once more, thinking that if one more sound like that happens, his head might shatter too. The cell phone keeps ringing, making the hungover man cry out, “ _Stop it!_ ”.

He turns around, not without falling against the bed or a wall. His vision blurs unnaturally, causing him to roll his eyes to try to tell his brain to start working. _Am I still drunk…?_

His pants are on the floor, the light of his phone glowing from the pocket. He bends to get it, but his stomach lurches and he hears it’s contains slosh around. With a wince, he plucks his trousers off the ground. His hands toy around with the material before getting to his device. Another shock from his fake arm makes him wince. It reminds him that he's bionic man. With a sigh, he pushes those memories away. _I'm just glad it works, and I'm not some cripple... Oh my god, I'd be so unpressentable then._ The phone has already gone quiet, but he wants to curse out whoever dared to reach him. Sebastian grips the iPhone in his shaky hands, vision still waving. He squints at the screen as he swipes it open to the notifications.

_32 Missed Calls._

_97 Missed Texts._

_Meeting with Board of Federal Credit Union at December, 14th, 12:50 pm_

The raven does a mental backflip, stumbling backwards and slamming against a wall. When… How…? He mouths his questions, vision becoming black and blotchy with his quick, sudden movement. A throb pulsates his temples and neck, and whatever he had last night… or two nights ago… threatening to resurface.

With a miserable and guilty grunt, he stumbles back to the bed. He’s clad in his black boxers and a wrinkled, open dress shirt. He sighs as he falls into the bed, wondering if all hotel beds are this comfortable.

He wonders if anything in the world is this comfortable.

Sebastian grunts again as he instinctively cuddles up to the back of his one-night-stander, sighing and relishing at their sweet scent.

He suddenly becomes a little more awake, and gets curious. He places his elbow under him, pushing his upper body up. Not without wincing at the pain…

The raven looks down at a nest of tangled slate-blue hair. The girl is bundled up in a cocoon of white feathered sheets, face buried in a equally fluffy pillow, faced away from Sebastian. He squints, taking his other hand to move the unnatural and unruly hair from the girl’s face.... _It obviously was a girl, right? No one can be that flowery-smelling and be considered a guy… right? Wait… is flowery-smelling even a word? Well, no matter_ \- Sebastian was having a hard time seeing straight, and he knew that if he was drunk enough, he’d had sex with a corpse. 

His partner’s face was soft and pale, and actually… 

Very beautiful. 

Even in a hungover state, he smiles and tells his past drunk self ‘ _good job!’. Or that’s just the alcohol talking._ Suddenly, a flash from a blinding, golden light makes him gasp in pain. He pulls his elbow out from under him like he touched something hot. A painful sting in and between his eyes makes him curse. He raises a hand to wipe his teary eyes, but the same flash from the golden object makes him hault...

And stare. Hard.

Sebastian stares a long time. More so than necessary. His clouded mind tries to process what the object on his ring finger means. A little golden ring is on his left hand; shiny, yet not too flashy. Simple, yet obviously pure gold…

He finally realizes what it is.

It’s a wedding ring.

_What the hell?!_

The raven drops his head down as he focuses in on the pretty girl’s snores, trying to wonder if he’s dreaming or not.

Please don’t tell me…

He looks at his hand again.

The ring is still there. He chokes out a shaky and regretful hiss.

Then drops his head down.

With a confused mind and a painful ache all over, he feels his conscious come back full force.

His vision starts clearing up.

And his companion starts to stir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S.W.A.T.*: Special Weapons and Tactics. 
> 
> Devil's Water*: A dangerous alcoholic beverage, made from several types of clear liquors. Sometimes added with a dash of pineapple juice.


	4. Chapter Two: Good Morning, my Un-Beloved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciel Wakes Up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics are flashbacks or inner thoughts.

Ciel awakes to the scent of clove and musk. And pain.

Excruciating pain.

Ciel’s head felt like it might split in half. His ears were ringing. An ugly pulse throbbed against the inside of his skull. His brain is blowing up inside his head, causing starts and black shadows to dance across his eyelids. Even when the bluenette attempted to open his eyes, morning light did not greet him kindly. 

The pain was excruciating. 

“ _Uuh,_ ” was the only sound he manages to make, before violently mentally swearing to never speak again. His throat closes up, and his tongue shrivels up like a dead snake so he can save the tiniest strand of saliva left. The boy’s mouth was so dry. His stomach churned with unpleasantness.

That, however, was when he realized that feeling like a complete bag of _shot_ wasn’t normal. Natural habit proclaimed that a glass of water is by his bed. He uses it when he has night terrors. Even without nightmares, a glass of water is placed there _every_ night, fresh and clean for when Ciel wakes up; whatever hour. The damn light that tried to turn him blind said it’s day, so he curses. He had to secure the line of agents at Buckingham-. Buckingham. London. England. 

Ciel winces at the thought of work, and nearly vomits as he remembers the three idiots who dragged him out to… _to a bloody desert!_ It was apparently considered ‘cool’ here if it was 80 degrees. 80 DEGREES. The boy remembers it was **sweltering.**

He groans, and settles back down into the sheets of the bed. He doesn’t remember coming back to the hotel room…

~ 

_“Ciel, you must try this!” Elizabeth says with a giggle, throwing an arm around Ciel’s neck. Ciel, however, tries to brush her off. He grips a styrofoam cup in hand, sipping the alcoholic, milky beverage. He couldn’t get caught drinking, of course. Despite his earlier disapproval of underage drinking, he suddenly thinks it’s the best idea ever._

_With a few sips of the drink, he began to feel a small buzz in the back of his brain, and somewhere behind his eyes. It warmed the boy, and it grew to his neck, and then chest. Suddenly the room around him, bright and colorful with people from every culture, began to blur into one big mess. It played with his vision, tricking his nerves and pausing logical thinking. Balance was something he’d forgotten, and lost around the fourth drink._

_Elizabeth was the eldest among the three. She had just turned nineteen… that’s what a tiny voice, once named logic and now his ex-best friend, said…._

_But Sieglinde told him…_

_Elizabeth was twenty two now, and her last name was Sullivan. Because she’s transgender and married to Sieglinde. He and Alois are their two wonderfully gifted brothers… All adopted... and it all made perfect sense, because in that one hour they mingled to the casino outskirts, dragging a antisocial Ciel, to the bar with suddenly bright smiles and happy faces and drunken jokes._

_“‘K, I got one…” Alois said, face resting on Ciel’s shoulder. Lizzy had been getting him and the others drinks, while laughing and playing with the bartender. _Was his name John? No, that was the bell hopper… also the name of the bar hopper… what? What’s bar hopper?__

_“What did the chip… say to the other chip… when he wanted to play with him?”_

_“I'd-know…” Ciel says tiredly, head down with a fist to his mouth, trying to stop the sudden attack of burps._

_“H-he said… I’m not you’re cheese! No-no, wait. I’m nacho /friend/… Haha, get it?” The joke wasn’t anything new, but Ciel thought it was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. He threw his head back, a laugh, six years depressed, coming out with a deep yet innocent purr. His cheeks hurt from the smiles he was forcing. His blush reaches his eyes._

_“Hey, Ciel…” someone says, making the bluenette turn to the left._

_He’s somewhere else now. He didn’t know that turning his head could change his location. But the thought’s funny, because he knows that doesn’t happen… yet it happened. He nods his head and his eyes lazily find Sieglinde standing at a large white wall, with large clear plastic boxes filled with colorful substances behind her._

_The pale girl waves him over, and he does his best to walk along with the room. It’s hard. Because the room keeps getting bipolar about which direction it wants to be in._

_“Here’s a jar. Get some candy. Oh! And here, you’ll love this,” she says, and hands Ciel a glass jar and a martini glass. The liquid is blue, and it holds has dry ice in it, foaming from the sides. Three gummy worms are impaled on toothpick, hanging off the edge for dear life. He drinks it without question, and suddenly falls in love. With this drink._

_His butterflies are doing flips in his belly, as he dances along with the bipolar room that spins even faster. He opens several of the candy-holding boxes spread out on the walls, and tries to avoid the shelves that seem to want to attack him._

_A hand touches his arm, and he slurs and tries to call for his friends._

_Another setting suddenly come to view in his vision. People are sitting on a bench -is that a pew?- looking teary eyed and happy all at once; eyes on him. He looks to his left, and a man with green eyes is standing at a far corner in a black, slender suit, attempting to look passive- yet slightly annoyed. He is standing next to cheering young blonde, who shouts something like /‘May you have lots of kids!’/._

_The boy quirks a eyebrow, but hands suddenly cup his cheeks, guiding his head to another direction. This time, the room doesn’t spin. It rotates like a carousel, round and round his body. He thinks he might fall into this oblivion in which he has become, but when his eyes met two burgundy jewels, his breath hitches. His heart stops. And the room stops._

_A pair of warm lips are clumsily shoved to his._

_He goes lip._

_The room goes away. And he falls into, not oblivion, but a warm, safe embrace._

~

What happened last night?

Ciel’s body suddenly screams in pain, and he realizes he must’ve fallen asleep again. This time, he manages to open his eyes. It’s still day, and a beam of light has made it’s one sole purpose to pissing the bluenette off. He winces yet again, and tries to ignore a /loud/ bang from behind him. _Damn it Alois!_ He curses inwardly, knowing the rain-blue eyed boy would do something stupid like bang pots or pans to wake Ciel up. 

Ciel sighs and rolls his shoulders, taking a deep breath of air in. He smells something fruity, yet bitter like raisins. Wine, he deducts, and licks his chapped lips. A sudden loud ‘pfft’ of the mattress is heard before he feels it, and knows one of the three idiots has crawled into bed with him. Yet he knows something is off.

Very off.

Neither one of the three idiots could weigh that much, Ciel realizes, and they’re too stupid to scare him with a stranger. So he nearly gags when someone gropes his back and hugs him like a teddy bear. 

A crippling fear, equal to a cat being chased by one thousand elephants, has Ciel lock up all of his joints. He holds his breath, breathing only when he might faint if not. Ciel is in too much pain and is too frozen with fear to even _comprehend_ as to _why_ a hand is being cupped to his head, waving back his hair ever so gently...

The act is oddly… comforting. 

Ciel uncontrollably hums, and accepts the pets being bestowed on him. A warm and sleepy wave washes over the boy, making him forget his anxiety. All of his muscles unclench, and he sighs as he relaxes.

However the sudden jerk from the comforting, strong arm makes Ciel remember that he’s plotting to kill his friends for scaring the living daylights out of him. _How, and_ why, _would they get some adult to come in here and prank me? Oh Well, They’re idiots anyway._

The body beside him moves, and Ciel groans out at the thought of interaction; especially with a stranger this early in the morning. What time was it anyway? Ciel opens his eyes again and squints at the light. He could’ve sworn it was brighter in here a second ago. He only shrugs it off, and orders his arms to move. The movement hurts, and he’s still unbelievably sore. _Damn it… what did I do last night?_

He raises a hand to his forehead while awkwardly using his right arm to prop himself up. The bluenette glares at the poorly blinded window across from him. Looking at the side table, he only finds a mop of lace of some sorts. Curious, the boy reaches over and picks it up. No clock under it, but there’s headband attached to the cloth. He inspects it. 

_It looks like a bride’s veil…_ He thinks, wondering why on earth such a thing is in his room. Did some hotel **servant** leave it here? _First of all, I made it clear I don’t want room serves until I deem it needed. Second, why would someone be so mindless as to leave a_ bride’s _veil?_

He winces and settles back down in the sheets, tossing the veil aside like it was an empty food wrapper. The veil, however, somehow is stuck to his hand. Ciel glares like the devil, and flicks his wrist to rid the cloth. However, it is still stuck. _What…?_

It’s stuck to a ring. Ciel quirks a eyebrow, bringing his hand closer to inspect. It wasn’t one of his rings.

It was thin, not heavy and gaudy like his Father’s. It hugged his left ring finger, and had three tiny jewels encased in tinier golden clasps. The middle jewel was a royal-blue diamond, glistening every image and light around it. A magenta light made from it causes the boy to gap at the two surrounding jewels that cause the light: rubies, a bit larger yet strong, beautiful, and graceful all the same. His mouth hangs open, staring as if the ring rusted.

The boy’s logical mind ponders and rolls around several different -innocent- explanations. But all of them are silly and childish… he knows his friends wouldn’t go out and buy him a ring like this -even though Elizabeth and Sieglinde have the money, and Alois was famous enough-, and he knows /he/ didn’t buy it. No one gave a gift like this recently… No one had run up to him and asked for his hand in marriage. That last option has been happening more and more lately, and it was seriously getting on Ciel’s ner-

_Oh God_ , he thinks in horror, remembering he drank a good bit of alcohol last night. 

**No. No. It can't be...**

Ciel stares in disbelief, his left hand raised and posing the jewel on his ring finger. It shines with gold and diamond, intertwined with words he didn’t understand.

With a blank mind, he rolls over in the bed on autopilot. 

A body is lying next to him. Red eyes stare back with the same confusing, denying expression that screams regret and anger.

**‘What have we done?’** They both ask silently, as the red-eyed man lifts his left hand, showing a golden ring… on his ring finger.

A foreign certificate and a couple of bottles of rose wine lay on the motel’s side table, confirming the two strangers’ horrors. They glance at each other, and say the first thing that comes to mind.

"I am so fucked-" The bluenette cries out.

"You’re a child!" The raven gasps in incredulity.

_ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit- how the hell is this going to look to the friggin Queen- oh my god, oh my god, he totally drugged me, and did this just to make me look bad! My father- oh damn it all to hell!-_

“What the hell do you think you’re doing in my bed!?” Ciel yells, his legs kick and arms panically trying to get rid of the blankets. He kicks them away as if they were on fire, jumping up so fast that his vision blurs and spins. His bed companion slowly sits up, running their hands through raven-black hair. It’s a man- the man is much taller, and older than Ciel, so the bluenette curses his short height. His eyes are dark red, like a blood-scabbed wound. It mars with the red, irritated veins in the whites of his eyes. 

Gradually the man moves to look at the younger, his brows narrowed. The raven glares at the boy with what seems like anger, and guilt. _What the hell did he do to me!?_

“Who are you!?” Screamed the shaken teen, as he backs up to the far side of the room. This is not done without stumbles.

The man stands up and stares him down. He stares and stares some more, his eyes unreadable now as a mask of mystery covers the emotions from before. “I could ask you the same, child,”

“First off, I am **not** a child. I’m sixteen, mind you… Second, I asked you first!”

The expressionless glare in the other’s burgundy eyes seem to glare harder in their sleepy sockets, “I’m Michaelis... Special Agent Sebastian Michaelis.” He says surprisingly softly, bending down to get his pants. _Oh my god, I’m so doomed, why didn’t I notice before that he’s in his underwear!?!- _The man- Sebastian- was tall. Slender to, with a well-toned chest… and body… Barely a dozen hairs was visible on his chest, barely taking away the lines of muscle strong enough to crush a man’s jaw. His black Calvin Klein’s hugged his hips and loins, showing off certain - _what the hell is **that**? Why is that on a man and not a damn horse!?-_... things.__

His hair, besides black, was longer in the front, on either sides of his face. In the back, it came in wispy strands to the top of his neck. The haircut was odd, but looked pretty well with his long, sharp facial features.

Ciel finds himself studying the man a moment much longer than necessary. He crosses his arms and pouts, trying to ignore the soreness and his horrible headache, all the while making his sense of authority high. 

“Well, _not-child_ , might want to explain this?” The man hisses, suddenly and quite bitterly, stepping into his pants while gesturing to the two of them. The gold ring on his hand catches the sun, and causes the bluenette to close his eyes. _My head ;-; - God, it’s too damn early in the morning for this… I’m too early for any of this!_ The boy keeps denying what the bottles, the foreign certificate on the bedside table, and the rings all mean… Ciel pinches his nose, tapping his right foot in agitation.

“I know for _certain_ that I would never… I would _never_ …” Ciel hesitates. His bony hands grip his sides, fighting the shoots of pain in his joints as he hugs himself. He then groans out and raises his hands to cup his face, as he shakes his head. The smell of sweet wine and sugar, along with what smells like wax, clove, and autumn musk, is stained on his hands. 

He doesn’t want to say the word. What this means. What he’s done. What he might've done last night… So many possibilities. This has to be a mistake… It has to. Ciel keeps demanding his growing anxiety that this is all fake, or some cruel prank. For a fact, he know he doesn’t like… He’s not into this kind of stuff…

Ciel has never been attracted to women.

Much less men.

He’s never been remotely sexually attracted to anyone. No one. Ciel lived in his head. Calculating every little thing and placing them into neat manila files in the libraries of his mind- that was home. Logic and Reason were his best friends. Fantasy and Fiction was something he’d only seek out in books. Love and romance were against his intuition; he only felt love for books or puzzles.

True Love and Romance was a joke.

Sex was stupid, messy, and the ones who indulge in it were bloody parasites who seek rewards without working. And the indulgers end it with regret and hate, separating as quick as they came. It causes unwanted, miserable children who grow up hating the world, and diseases that could stop if people stopped doing what spred it. Who good and logical in this world would want to do that?

People often mistake sexual attraction for love. Ciel knows that there is a huge difference.

_Disgusting_ , Ciel thinks with a glower. He must’ve been zoned, because a hand is snapping right in his face.

The bluenette flinches and backs up, instinctively raising his arms to guard his face. The fist snaps again, and bi-colored eyes meet burgundy, “You wouldn’t? I apologize; I deduced that you’d love nothing more than a man’s co-” Ciel cuts the man off violently.

“You deduce? You deduce!? Oh, of course, I shouldn’t fight with such a handsome hunk like you if I wanted your disco stick up my bum!”

“You need a harness on your muzzle, dear. Shouting petty little lies while wearing a dress is very unbecoming.” The raven says with dark sarcasm, stepping forward and cornering the boy. His shadow looms dangerously, and the boy finds his back hitting to where the walls meet to corner.

Ciel opens his mouth to give another snarky remark, but suddenly stops due to vertigo. His stomach flips as he remembers the bride’s veil, and looks down at his body. **Nononononononon-**

He’s wearing a dress.

He is wearing a goddamn dress.

Ciel’s outfit was wrinkled and sweaty, what was what he’d noticed first. Lace coated his arms to make long ball gown sleeves. His torso is clothed bright white, lacy and silky, leading to his hips. It comes out in a mermaid-spiral, sparkling and showing off his slim waist and frail hips. He gasps so loud at the disturbing bolt from the blue, that his throat closes up in sympathy.

And then his body turns against him.

The raven agent jumps back so quickly he nearly glides, audibly winces as Ciel hacks and then bends over, emptying the foul contents of his stomach. Bile burns his mouth and throat, adding with alcohol and half-digested food he didn’t want to think about. He heaves again, and the smell of his own sick burns his eyes. Watery blue and violet eyes shut as useless, anxiety-ridden gags emits from the teen. He hucks his cookies one last time before he just bows there, throat and stomach convulsing while trying to get more out- but there was none left.

_Why am I so weak…?_ He cries inwardly, screaming at all the wrong things with this moment. However, a hand comes to pat the back of his head, and he is appreciative of the small act of comfort.

But then quickly shoves the arm away, yet flinched as his hand hits something particularly hard.

Not super fit muscle hard. Metal hard. But there is no sound of pinging from metal, and the man moves away with the hit. Ciel hears the raven step back. 

“Is this your first time drinking?” He asks. Ciel winces and straightens up. His back creeks at this, and he cracks his neck with a embarrassing whimper. “No. But I’ve never had…” he gazes at the bottles scattered across the room, “this much.”

“That explains enough. You’ll need to hydrate quickly. Do you know where we can get water?”

“And why the hell should I know?” Ciel barks, wiping his mouth with a sleeve. “Besides, it’s ‘me’ and ‘you’. There is no ‘we’.” Ciel doesn’t care if he dirties the dress. White fabric of the sleeves are soft, and he sighs at the feel.

The man sighs loudly as well, and walks away. His feet are heavy, and Ciel can feel the vibrations of them through the air.

“Where are your parents.” He demands quietly, his voice devilishly smooth and near caramel like. He reminds Ciel of a butler almost, as he watches the black-clad legs gracefully walk to a black suit coat, picking it up with a flick of his wrist. The movement is curious, as he watches the man get dressed. His left arm, however, seems to be… off. Ciel can’t place his finger on it, but the movements seem almost… robotic. It’s opposite from the agent’s overall self- yet hard to catch, compared to the rest of the man’s panther-slick moves. When the teen hears the question repeat in his mind, he puffs and childly whines and mocks back, “ _Where are YOUR parents??_ ”

“Don’t. I am the adult here, so show respect.” Sebastian says turning his shoulders, buttoning up the rest of his dress shirt, hiding his Greek statue torso away. “I see you’re British, despite your pompous accent. So whatever hellhole you wallowed out of gives you no excuse to talk back.”

Ciel whips his head to the side and then back, eyes wide and mocking. He points to his chest, placing a hand on his hip, “Sorry _honey_ , I should get back to my hellhole in one piece, or I’ll have you strung up by your toes- You know what? Damn that, I’ll get you killed for kidnapping a minor.”

That was a low blow, and Ciel and see a jump in the man’s back as he struggles with his suit. He turns back towards the younger and his eyes are wide in disbelief, but this look quickly turns into sticky sweet hatred. 

“Oh? My bad... You’ll run back to mommy and daddy and cry to them about how you were drugged and was raped by an American federal agent. Remind me in the next life to always show respect to spoiled, young, ignorant, and bratty Brits like you.” 

Ciel goes silent for a moment, and his jaw drops at the remark. Yet he can barely understand why the other isn’t showing any real emotion. However, the teen just about has it. This man has got to go. He clenches his jaw and screams with his mouth shut, clawing his hair like a wild animal.

His rage was through the roof with this man.

“I’m going to kill you!” Ciel shouts then, storming over to the raven. Obviously the man was not expecting this, and raises his arms in defence, right before turning around to guard himself. Sebastian grunts lowly, as the boy leaps on his back. Sharp nails grip a strong and slender neck, clutching like it was a lifesaver. Ciel growls and wrap his legs around the man’s waist, solely intent on messing this man’s very being up. The bluenette, however, doesn’t bother with the hangover from hell, or that the man was more than capable of defending himself.

Ciel couldn’t even think, much less notice, how the other suddenly got the upperhand. Elegant yet large hands grip the boy’s knees, backing up till a wall was hit. Said boy cries out as he is crushed between the brick-like back of the agent and the wall. He’s now on his back, looking up as a body staggers over his own. Red eyes trace along the boy’s facial features, seeming to be barely fazed as the boy groans out in pain, withering under the larger body. Ciel whimpers and brings his arms up to hide his face, his blood rushing to his cheeks.

Sebastian makes a quiet sigh, still audible to the boy through his pain. He places a hand on the younger's head, and the receiving one tries rolling away. The carpet is Ciel’s only support, and the material of it gives a nasty rope burn on exposed skin. “Stop, just stop…” the bluenette huffs, yelling at his body to do everything in it’s power to not cry.

“Hey… I’m sorry,” The man starts awkwardly, “Don’t cry, little one…” He takes his hand away from the boy’s head to his slim waist, leaning back to half-cradle the other. Ciel wants to yell at the man, and also wants to crawl away to a small, dark, and safe place. But it also feels comforting, and Ciel nearly curls into himself with the human interaction. _It’s been so long since someone held me like this…_ He thinks, even thought they only touch by hand and waist. But how long had it been since Ciel has had this much human contact? So long without touch… Two shades of eyes, dark royal blue and light purple-gray meet red, and the boy wants to bury himself into this man’s chest. He wants to smell his musk; clove and fall. He wants someone to wrap their arms around him, and pet his head and tell him it’ll be alright. He wants to be groomed and cuddled, to have no other need in the world except coddling… He needs to be loved.

He also needs to pee. And he feels his bladder make its announcement, and suddenly he desperately wants to find the nearest restroom. Besides that, his stomach needs something in it.

_Physical need! Physical need! It's not emotional! Not important!_ His logic cries, and knows he needs to get up. Ciel moves his legs to try and move away, but his sweat and vomit-stained dress hikes up as well, and slips down his thighs.

The raven suddenly gasps as Ciel’s knee bumps into his groin, and he can feel the man nearly double over to the light, innocent touch. That movement causes the boy to hault. Even if he isn’t exactly trying to ‘feel around’, he can _feel_ the heavy member trapped inside the pants.

_Good Lord, smite me now_

Ciel fusses and pushes the man off, noticing how a huge wave of heat suddenly left when they separate. The man sits on his knees, looking a bit pissed. Ciel tries not to stare at the older’s morning wood. “I need to piss,” he says meekly, and struggles to stand up. He rips the dress along the way, but doesn’t react to it. Sebastian puts his hands under the younger’s arms, hoisting him up like a feather. The younger gasps at the sudden movement, and a wave of nausea makes it’s fearful return. He already can already smell bile again. 

The bathroom is wide open and across from the queen bed, down a set of steps and into a living room-like area. Light from the windows is more bearable now, and Ciel attempts to look around for the time without getting dizzy. He doesn’t find a clock, but sees a broken lamp and the six bottles of wine. Without wanting to waste more time, he waddles away to the restroom to clean up. “I feel disgusting,” he says bitterly, not caring if the other male heard or not. However, he’s pretty sure the agent growled under his breath. 

Cold tile greets Ciel’s bare feet, as he pitter patters around the restroom after shutting the door. A hot and shaky breath leaves the boy’s cracked lips, and he glances at himself in the mirror.

_I look bad_ , he thinks as he traces his earlobe to his jaw. His face looks tired too, and his eyes are sullen and glassy, black and purple marks hang under and around his eyes. Not a single strand of saliva is in his mouth. He smacks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, cringing in repulse. _With a good shower, I’ll feel better…_

He practically starts ripping the dress off, all the while screaming at himself that whatever happened in his memory gap wasn’t what it seemed. Not possible, he scoffs. He tries unzipping the frock, and pulls on strings and ribbons that he finds on his back, seething when his hands clumsily claw at the patch of skin the dress exposed. Blood flushes his cheeks again, and he yells out in frustration. “ _Bloody fucking lady lace!_ ” is his rage, and he is shocked to find himself sobbing.

Sobbing. Tears.

_I’m such a little fucking bit-_

Suddenly a pair of hands is on his shoulders, halting his movements and thoughts. He doesn’t have to turn around, and only looks up to the mirror to see the black-clad man behind him, working on undoing the frock. Ciel stands still and stares at the man’s reflection, watching him work silently and gracefully. The ribbons and zips come undone in seconds, but with every small touch or brush of the elder’s fingers, the boy turns further into mush. Sebastian’s eyes lift to meet Ciel’s in the mirror, and the younger looks away quickly. He wipes his face and clutches the top of the dress to his chest, as the back of it hangs open.

“I never got your name,” Sebastian says finally, and his fingers are skimming over the skin of the bluenette’s back. Ciel catches the scent of clove again, and holds back a whine. He keeps denying this.

“...It’s Ciel. Ciel Phantomhive,” he replies quietly, knowing that if he takes his voice up another octave, it’d break. The man behind him has a uncomfortable presence, that seems to stretch endlessly like black, merciless shadows. It causes a shiver to run down the young one’s spine.

“Can you read Japanese?” The man asks, as he abruptly moves away from the boy. Ciel ignores the want for the other to come back. 

“No,” he admits.

The man goes to the toilet and lifts the lid, unzipped his trousers, and seemed to not care if the sixteen year old stood near by as he went along his business. Ciel glares, but the man butts in too quickly.

“I can. I learned when I was your age. It’s easy once you learn to read, and young minds tend to learn new languages fairly quickly,” the raven says, audibly groaning as he relieves himself. Ciel turns away and focuses on getting a shower. He snoops around a mini closet for a towel and other toiletries.

So?” The nobel snaps, forcing his pride to spark. _I am not weak._

“The certificate on the side table. It’s Japanese.” He says robotically, and he finally stops urinating, flushing while making his actions /way/ to loud, as Ciel has to mentally slap himself upside the head to stop himself from seeing Sebastian tuck himself back into his pants. Ciel slaps himself again to focus on the other’s words. He doesn’t respond.

“The age of consent in Japan is thirteen. But there are agencies to stop nonconsensual or unethical affairs,”

“.... Your point being…?”

“Sometimes people get married a certain way, according to another country that they don’t live in. If the clergyman or whomever weds a couple is from that country, it can be considered acceptable in some cases.*”

And there. There’s the word that the two males had been trying to avoid at all costs.

_Wed_

“I’m getting a shower. Get out,” Ciel says with vinegar, facing the stand-in shower. It was made of slightly blurred glass and tile. He hears the elder shuffle around behind him, and the sound of a zipper zipping up. A grunt follows and footsteps near him. 

He finds himself pinned to a wall yet again.

A hand comes up to grip his cheeks, squishing the little mounds of flesh between two fingers. Ciel tries to speak or complain, but his lips pucker and he only blows air as he is molded into a fish face. Burgundy eyes bore into his, “I am not the only one in this, _Ciel_. And you are not the only one flipping the _fuck_ out, so you better keep your trap shut or _I will_ ,” the man says. Very uncharacteristically. And very bitterly. Ciel feels his face being let go, and it shoves him back. His head hits the shower door behind him, and he winces. Stars dance along his vision yet again. The slam of the bathroom door makes Ciel cuss as his eardrums rattle in response.

_What in holy hell have I gotten myself into…?_

~

Until next time~ Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *: I have no idea if this is true. I wrote it cuz of the plot.


	5. Chapter Three: Here Kitty, Kitty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciel and Sebastian being idiots.
> 
> It's close to 1 in the morning. Finished this chap just now.
> 
> I'm tired, and it shows in this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO HAND IN EDITING! YAY!
> 
> Shoutout to knightatem on Tumblr, for recommending the movie 'What Happened in Vegas' a few months back- I would have posted this chapter sooner, but I discovered One-Punch Man... yaaaaaaaaaaaaa.... 
> 
> anyways, thanks for the kudos~!

Ciel stands in front of the shower door, hands tightly gripping his hips on instinct. His blood ran cold. The glass of the shower pressed against his back, giving the boy little warmth, or comfort. He stands with the same fierce stagnation as a mountain. 

When the door to the bathroom is slammed shut, he waits another minute to recollect himself. 

Then, he lets his breath out. He gasps and throws his arms to his face as if to rub away the man’s germs. Imprints from a pointer finger and thumb still mark his near-perfect, pale skin. Ciel’s fingers grace the prints, forcing his shivering hands to be still so he can check for damage. When no serious injury is obvious, he sucks another breath in. 

“Damn it,” he cusses, and turns his body to face the mirror. The fabric of the bridal gown becomes more obvious, and he violently shakes it off. With disgusted, he kicks the dirtied dress it to the side. Beads from the ribbons make tiny pings against the white tile, and some get undone and scatter across the floor. Ciel sniffles and opens the shower to turn the water on. It gets warm quickly.

The bluenette looks down at himself, terrified to find any clue as to what truly happened. There are no bruises on his hips, or bite marks. Even so, Ciel still rubs nervously at his flanks and hips. He bares no blemish, but he still wants to know why he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Not even an undershirt!

Ciel wipes his nose with the back of his hand, grimacing as a streak of green snot is left behind. _Damn, I can’t effort to get sick now!_

The boy shakes his head and tells himself he needs to get clean. His body felt itchy, and he was getting colder much faster than when he wore the dress. With a tiny hop, he gets into the stand-in and nearly moans out as the hot water slashes against his skin. He stands under it, eyes closed as the water streams it’s way down his body, dripping off his chin and nose. The heat of the shower steams the restroom up significantly, fogging up the glass door and mirrors. Ciel opens his eyes breafly as he runs his fingers through his oily hair, catching his reflection in a mirror- the walls in the shower are mirrors? He notes, before squinting around for the complimentary toiletries. He finds three tiny bottles, barring logos of some prestigious bathing supply company. 

As he picks out the shampoo and starts pooring some into his hand, he remembers about how thirsty he was. 

Like, he was _really_ thirsty. 

Extremely thirsty. 

He opens his mouth and breaths in steam, gaping and licking his mouth as the dryness becomes unbearable. His tongue and throat felt as dry and as unforgivable as an Arabian Desert. The smallest of movements makes his head spin and black shadows to dance across his vision. He shuts his eyes and attempts to stop the sudden vertigo. His hands reach up to grip his head, but a cool creamy liquid is unanticipatedly painted against the side of his face. Shampoo! He forgot about the shampoo in his hands! He mentally curses, knowing it was far too late to save the majority of the glob of body product. Mentally bashing himself again, he wipes the rest off his face and into his hair. He lathers, and leans forward to let the water beat against his scowling face. 

What was I thinking about? He questions, returning to his original state of mind, until the roar of water suddenly becomes annoying and painful. _Gotta a headache still… Oh, yeah, I’m still thirsy!_ He gulps, but gets no saliva. _Hate to do this… but…_ Ciel winces and tries to stop the inner battle between manners and survival instinct. The boy didn’t like the idea of drinking the shower water, but it was water, and water was water. **_Water…_ ** he caves, inches forward, and faces upward. He maneuvers himself with his toes and fingers, eyes shut to save them from the soap in his hair. 

With an egger open mouth, he lets the water run down his throat. However, as he randomly gulps down water he notes that the water does not… taste right.

It doesn’t taste right at all. He suddenly hacks as his taste buds make a late announcement to his brain. Bad! Bad taste! His tongue and throat clench for the need to hydrate, yet the sour taste of the shower clings to his tongue like a ugly bruise. He shakes his head and spits out, backing up to the back of the shower. Ciel forgets the soup on him and instinctively attempts to wipe off the horrid water.

Bad idea.

He grimaces and pulls his hands from his mouth. The shampoo, despite having claimed to be made of sea butter and oatmeal, tasted bitter and the tongue’s abbreviation of hate itself. The miserable teen spits more, on the verged of crying that the water he _did_ swallow was far from enough. His throat still screamed for a drink as he works on removing the soupy, and lead-y taste from his mouth.

In the young man’s panic, he opens his eyes.

Another bad idea.

The sting hit him like a bag of cement blocks, and he shuts and opens his eyes in quick, rapid movements like a frightened rabbit. At the point of insanity, he blindly gropes around for a towel of somesort. He feels one hung over the glass door, and reaches out to pull it down. 

His toes hit the step of the shower.

Alright. Let us guess what type of idea this is… did you say a bad idea? No.

_Worse fucking thing in the whole universe_ idea.

Ciel cringes and stumbles, yelping helplessly as his whole body slams into the door, pushing it open and giving way. The teen can do little to help himself up, and can barely even open his eyes to see what’s happening. His body, however, feels it all to the most extremes of levels. Wave after wave of pain, nausea, extraordinary frustration and _more pain_ \- he had had his last straw. With a frustrated and surrendering yelp/gasp, he hits the floor headfirst in a puddle of lead-tasting water and soap. In an attempt to find something, anything, to help him, his shaky vision seems to vibrate at every little eye movement he makes. However, he does see something: orange and black in color- a towel? Sebastian?

He reaches out, not caring if the large bulky object seems to multiply into millions of images as it nears, the slow grogginess of his vision making Ciel faintly think he’s turned into a fly- millions and millions of the same image… Was anything making sense anymore? A hot breath fogs against his face. 

Then, he falls into the blissful, black unknown.

~

Sebastian slams the restroom door with a bang, speed-walking to the bed with anger. He growls out in frustration and drops down onto the mattress, not caring at the moment if his phone was pressing against his pelvis. When it starts to get painful, he rolls over on his back and pulls it out. With nothing better to do besides sit around and sulk, he turns it on. When the agent sees the notification list again, he puffs out in annoyance. How tedious… Sebastian frowns. The raven sits up with a painful groan, licking his chapped lips with distaste. He stands, and knows he must get something to drink. He doesn’t even linger on the half-empty wine bottle by his bedside. Like a sick cat, he drags himself off to the kitchen.

There’s a tiny kitchen area in the front, and he has to push down a growing bubble of anxiety. This is a really nice room… too nice. _I can’t afford this!_ Sebastian panics, and flips out his phone again. Robotically, the raven taps the phone to unlock, and then opens an internet tab. He goes to his bank account and logs in. Sebastian attempts, prepares, and knows that he will see his balances in the negatives.

But he doesn’t. His eyebrows rise at this, seeing that he _did_ loose something around $200 at the most. At the most! He was glad it wasn’t around some forty thousand dollars, but he was still ticked at spending this much money. The man wasn’t one to throw money at things he doesn’t really need. And he’s sure as hell he didn’t, or ever will, need twenty pounds of England-imported Earl Gray. _Since when do I drink tea…?_ Sebastian drank coffee; black coffee. _Like my soul_.

He sighs deeply, running a shaking hand through his hair. He pulls his his bangs back. To be truthful, he felt like losing his shit. Yet he knows he must be rational about this… And for the kid. That kid… he huffs at this, rolling his eyes as he remembers the first time he glanced at him. He was truly an odd one- bicolored eyes, one a dark royal blue like the hope diamond itself- haunting, eerie, yet oh so tempting- and the other a soft violet- like the flower. Sweet, almost. 

He was an odd boy indeed- Boy, he thinks with a snort. To keep himself busy, he flits about the area to make a breakfast of sorts, chugging down a water battle –or five- he found in the mini fridge, along with a few apples, and complimentary foods and snacks.

But Sebastian had a rather difficult problem he was dreading to face…

How was it so that the kid was so cute in that dress?

Sebastian sighs again, and begins to mosey around the kitchen out of bordom, after eating two of the apples and a fruit bar. Like a tiger, he stalks back and forth in the kitchen, practically grunting with every turn he makes. He was truly in a awful situation… what would the others think of his actions?

A loud thump from the bathroom pulls him out of his thoughts. Sebastian quirks an eyebrow, and turns toward the room’s direction. What on earth could that be? The raven has no time to ponder, however, as a loud and rather flinch-worthy scream emits from the WC. 

Without a second thought and suddenly gifted with the speed of light, he barrels across the hotelroom and into the restroom. He instinctively wanted to break the door down, but knew better. After all, the ‘lady’ inside might have been overreacting something. And the ‘lady’ would want privacy- right?

So he knocks like the world’s best fucking gentlemen. “…Are you quite alright in there? Young boy?” Sebastian didn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t remember if the younger male gave his name. ‘Young boy’ seemed better than ‘brat’, despite that being the pronoun he wished to use.

The one-armed agent rolls his shoulders, hearing no response. He goes to knock again, but a deep ‘grunt/growl’ that comes from inside deffinetly does not sound like the teen.

So Sebastian does open the door down.

He didn’t expect a 300lbs Bengal tiger to be standing over the naked form of the teen.

“What the-“ he starts, confusion levels shooting up alongside his anxiety. The tiger looks up with big round eyes; it’s white jaw dropped and panting half way to reveal sharp, powerful teeth. It growls lowly, its tongue slithering out to lick at long whiskers. With a mighty, quite roar, Sebastian took the point that it ment business.

Why such a beautiful, exotic animal was here in a tiny little hotel was beyond Sebastian. But, his life –and the boy’s- was at stake, with the obviously hungry animal presenting itself now.

The raven coos, tiptoeing closer while leaning down, reaching for the nude adolescent who lay still under the animal’s body. The tiger didn’t take lightly to the agent, and growls louder in warning, stepping closer to guard its intended meal. _Shit, this is bad,_ he thinks, deciding to wing it.

With grace to match the angels’, he grabs the boy and bolts. The tiger suddenly roared, claws scrapping the ground, claws scratching on the tile, and slipping on the dirty wedding dress. It trips, roaring in frustration as well as Sebastian, as the man dashes to the exit. Without time to close the bathroom door, he runs out the hotel room.

Which, at the time, seemed logical. But now Sebastian finds himself standing outside of their room, locked out, standing in shock and whirling thoughts, holding a naked and soupy boy -who’s out cold like winter- like a newly wedded bride and groom, and absolutely no fucking clue of what to do next.

And Sebastian doesn’t have much time- the tiger’s scratching at the door, and there are people’s voices down the hall.

Their headed toward the two male’s way.

_This is so fucked up,_ Sebastian thinks, clutching the blue haired boy to his body tighter.


End file.
